Dementia
by TheOneWithTheShortHair
Summary: Because everyone is losing their mind. Everyone has demons, right? Dark and twisted, M for a good reason.
1. The Punching Bag

**AN: Well I know I should be writing What If, and I promise I'm working on that chapter. It's two in the morning and this plot bunny has attacked me.**

**If you are triggered by cutting, then I would say NOT to read this, because it is all angsty. It is loosely canon, but rather AU, as far as the ending goes.**

**We don't know much about Blaine's home life and so I wanted to try something.**

**I will come back and edit this, possibly this weekend, but no promises.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, the characters or am making money off this. And I promise I will give the characters back when I'm done with them. Later.**

Blaine had always hit things.

That's what he did. He hit pillows when he was five after he was no allowed dessert, and the massive teddy bear from his dad when he was seven and his parents missed his first solo in choir. He had been nine when he got his first punching bag. It was tiny, barely bigger than his small frame. It was red and black, had some fighting logo on it. His father told him when he was mad to punch or kick it, not others. Then he handed over the gloves that seemed like a mix of Hulk hands and boxing gloves.

Blaine loved them.

He practiced everyday.

It wasn't hard. His parents were always away, or dealing with _perfect_ Cooper and whatever he was doing.

So, he took it out on the punching bag.

Then, one day, the bag spilt open.

He was eleven.

All the other guys where obsessed with girls. Boobs and hair and what the hell did "B cup" mean, and why did it matter if the high school girls checked you out at the mall.

And so, he bought a new, extra-strength punching bag, new leather gloves that made him feel like a rebel. That night he chained it to his roof.

And just punched it.

A lot.

When he was thirteen, he went to middle school.

It sucked. All his friends and girlfriends, and one of them claimed to have hit second base. It made him mad. He wanted to reach second base with a _guy_.

But he knew that wouldn't happen.

Not here, not now, not while you couldn't go five feet without hearing "That's so gay," or "He is such a fag."

He could have told his parents, or his brother, had they not ignored him.

So he punched the damn bag.

His first fistfight was two weeks later.

He had come out at school, and kids were mean, they taunted him, tripped him, some times slammed him into lockers. A kid was making fun of him, and then the punching bag wasn't enough.

He punched the kid square in the face.

And it felt good.

At the end of the year, there was the Sadie Hawkins dance.

A bunch of kids were asking each other, so he invited one of his friends, who he knew was out.

They went together, had a great night, didn't see any bullies, and so they thought they were safe.

They were wrong.

They had the crap kicked and punched out of them.

Blaine fought back, but eight to two odds really suck, even if one of the two practices every other day after school.

When Josh's dad showed up, he saw two kids in a heap beside the dumpster.

And Blaine and Josh went to the hospital, and they were fine.

From there the taunts got worse.

Josh moved away, dad got transferred to the coast.

He was called fag in the hallways and had notes saying "Stop being such a homo" or "Fairy, do us all a favor and die already."

And the leather gloves were replaced every few months because he practiced every day. Sometimes twice.

It was by pure luck his parents noticed.

They were home, after one of Cooper's audition for something, and today had been rough.

He now had FAG written on his face.

In permanent marker.

And his mom walked in, and it all fell apart.

He told her everything, and by the end, his dad had come up to hear the words, "I'm gay."

And from that moment his father stopped talking to him.

Everything ended.

He hated his dad, and his school and his perfect brother, Cooper.

One day, he cut himself shaving.

It was an accident, he would have swore in court, if ever needed to. But, the next one wasn't. And the third one was with every intention to keep it up.

He keep punching and cutting, and taking all the crap at school.

One day, he cut to deep.

It was an accident. He didn't want to die, if he did he would have been dead for months.

It was in grandmother who took him in.

With in a week, he was transferred. Dalton Academy.

He learned he could sing. He could sing well. Wes and David made him talk, and helped him a lot. They had their own demons. The trio was close, really close and Blaine had nothing to worry about.

When he got home for the holidays, he took down the punching bag and threw out his razors.

He met Kurt, and he helped him. Their kiss was magic. He was in love and couldn't help it.

But why would he want to?

He was happy, people loved him and Kurt was getting over the hell at his old school.

Life was perfect, well close to it.

Sure Kurt transferred back, but then Blaine followed.

They did great when they performed, he got solos and the Sebastian came into the picture.

And suddenly sex was the elephant in the room.

He loved Kurt, and Scandales was fine, until he opened the idea of sex.

He and Kurt fought.

He hated it when he and Kurt fought.

The performance went great, and he and Kurt had their first time.

And then Cooper showed up.

The Weasel was there when he wasn't needed and not there when he was. Kurt loved him. Of course, Cooper Perfect In Every Way would make him look like a jerk and an idiot.

So he brought out the punching bag.

But instead of cutting, he sang.

Then Cooper left and he and Kurt where back to normal. As normal as boyfriends could be when they completely ignore each other.

And he just kept punching.

And singing, couldn't forget that, could he.

Kurt cheated on him.

With a cellphone.

So, it was easy to forget this was his…Kurt and he punched him.

The sound of his strong fist hitting Kurt's perfect face shocked them. Kurt's eye was turning black and his nose was bleeding.

He turned and left.

Gone.

The perfect thing in his life was driving home, and Blaine was holding his phone.

Kurt's phone beeped.

**You are beautiful~ **The text read.

**Shut the fuck up and leave Kurt alone! **He texted back.

Wow, he hated this kid.

He stole the most perfect thing in his life, and he was so mad.

He couldn't fathom how he could hate some one this much.

Kurt's phone beeped.

He through it out the window.

He hated this, he hated feeling helpless and worthless and Fuck it all!

The next day at school was hell.

Kurt's bruise was hidden, but Finn knew.

And that's how he found himself in the dumpster before first period.

And how all the New Directions glared at him.

But in Glee, he sang his song.

And it was wrong.

It wasn't alright and sure as hell wasn't going to be ok.

**AN: Who liked it?**

**This is the first time I've written anything like this, and I have not seen this weeks episode yet, but when I do, I might do you guys a sequel.**

**I'd love to hear your thoughts.**


	2. The Three L's

Illegal has three L's.

Love, Lies and Losers.

Santana's pretty surprised how they relate. Love can mean lies, and lies tends to make trouble, trouble often leads to losers, and losers tend to fall in love.

She wouldn't know.

That was her step-dad's fault.

The sick twisted bastard who-

She had lied about living in Lima Heights. She lived in a nice area. She used to live there. Her mom had moved out when she was 4, met Derek who was nice for the firs month or so.

That was supposed to be love.

Then he got drunk.

And everything fell to shit.

Turns out the guy had a temper. He yelled. A lot. And a five year old Santana couldn't understand why this mean man was hitting her mom.

Around six, he started hitting her. Just hair pulling, mainly. He slapped her once or twice.

She was spending time with her 'friends' but they made her use the old dolls. Said all the new ones where special. She couldn't tell them she didn't have any new dolls.

When she was seven, he took her virginity.

All she could see was red. It hurt, a lot. It felt like-no, she wouldn't go there.

He was beating her and her mom, in a crap house and they hadn't told anyone.

That was the lies.

At nine, her dad came back.

He had made money, now a doctor and took Santana right out of that hell-hole.

When her mom ended up in the Hospital, a week before Santana's tenth birthday, the cops finally were called.

Derek was gone.

Left Lima, left Ohio, and wouldn't come back.

Well that's what she told herself, trying to stay sane.

But she was scared. You couldn't hide things, not here. So she picked up on fighting and kept razor blades in her hair.

She would not end up used.

When she was twelve, she started dieting, and made her self beautiful, taught herself what she'd do and never do anything she didn't have control over.

On her 13th birthday, she Quinn and Brittany where hanging out, and slowly became friends.

At fourteen, freshman, she stole boys virginities. Her mom finally moved out of the tiny house and things where looking up.

But she still felt like a loser.

She was sixteen.

And she was doing illegal things, for fair reasons, but dealing with her crap.

Anyone who hurt Brittany would pay. Britt was innocent, didn't deserve what people told her.

_You didn't deserve that. _Her mind would tell her. But she wasn't listening.

She was going to famous, untouchable, and no one would hurt her. Ever.

She would be strong, strong for her and for Britt and anyone who couldn't be strong

But when Kurt came into the choir room, she could see straight through his make-up.

She knew right away. And she knew Blaine would pay. Because Kurt and dealt with too much crap in his life to deal with this. At least she had Britt.

She knew what she had to do. And she knew why.

Blaine had hit him.

She was pretty sure that was illegal as well.


	3. Mohawk

**AN: Wow, this has gotten much more attention than I thought it would… :D**

**This is dedicated to Kissme123, who has reviewed every chapter so far, and told me to write more… This is for you :)**

**Disclaimer: I snuck into Ryan Murphy's private office, stole the rights of Glee, than he sent flying monkeys and lions from Mars after me. So I don't own Glee…**

Puck had always understood Santana.

They had lived as beside each other, back when she lived in Lima Heights.

They had dealt with their problems, sort of, and had gotten close enough to understand what the other one was thinking.

When the where kids, she would take him to parks, he told her how to steal. She had given him his first Mohawk.

They had bonded over hatred to their dads.

Well, his dad, her step-dad.

His dad hit him.

"_Take it like a man!"_

He beat him with his fists. Told him he was trash. His dad hated him so badly. A nine year old doesn't know what suicide is, but they know if they'd rather die than live.

"_Your not my son, you're a piece of garbage!"_

That year Santana's dad, real dad, came back, with money and a shiny car.

She left, and his life got worse.

"_See, no one wants you, you worthless piece of shit!"_

Then best thing that happened was he left.

He was ten, and his dad took the car and drove.

He left him, his sister and his mom, nursing their wounds and wondering how to get money.

He became a 'man'.

He turned into Puck, the one who was strong, and proud, and didn't take anything from anyone.

Him and Santana had hooked up a few times, not wanting to be alone.

His life was, livable.

And then he made the stupid mistake of sleeping with Quinn.

His daughter was beautiful, he couldn't deny _that,_ but he always thought of what his dad would say.

"_Good job son, make her yours."_

He hated his dad.

He hated being alone.

So he got stronger.

Finn abandoned him when he found out the baby was Puck's.

It seemed everyone hated him.

Except Santana.

For some insane reason he trusted her. It wasn't because he trusted her, it was because of the shit they had to deal with, to only really be able to trust each other.

So when she gave him one of her looks, one that said _when need to do something about this_, he had to help.

He knew Kurt, not super well, but he could kick ass at Call of Duty, when Finn and Artie and him forced him to play.

And he could tell when he needed help.

He really needed help.

So what helps a diva in distress? Another diva. Or two.

Mercedes couldn't have seen this coming.

But, she knew it did happen, and right now Kurt needed her. She wasn't sure what to do right now. She needed a plan.

Her phone buzzed.

There was a text from Puck. She had to re-read it five times before she understood it.

**Get Rachel and met me and Santana at the Lima Bean.**

_That boy better have a plan. _She thought as she drove to Rachel's.

"So what's the plan?"

"We need a plan for revenge on Blaine."

"And we seriously need to help Kurt."


End file.
